The next day, after choir practice, the first thing she did was race into her room, claiming she had homework to do. If Mom was surprised at her enthusiasm, she didn't show it, continuing to unload the shopping they'd picked up on the way home and oblivious to Trixie's sudden disappearance. Which was a good thing, really; the more time she had to work on this undisturbed, the better.

After flinging her backpack onto the bed, Trixie bent down to the floor, pushing at her art chest until it shifted into the space the door normally slid into. It wouldn't stop Mom from coming in if she really wanted to, but it would give her some warning, and she could always play it off as not having put it back properly.

Opening the lid of the chest, she rummaged through the contents, eventually unearthing an as yet unused scrapbook. She unzipped her bag, revealing the drawing she'd stashed in there for safekeeping. Painstakingly, she pasted the rescued artwork onto the first page of the book, tracing the blackened wings with her fingertip when she was done. She would need more than this, she thought, idly flipping through the rest of the blank pages. Much more. If you wanted to catch a bad guy, you had to build a solid case, which meant she had to have as much evidence as possible. Mom taught her that. The lie 'Lucifer' told about having black wings instead white wasn't nearly enough.

With narrowed eyes, she took one last look at the drawing and paused, before scribbling next to it, 'Evidence No.01: Lucifer's wings aren't black'. Then she snapped the scrapbook, now her very own case file, shut. After finding a sticky label and placing it on the outside, she neatly labelled the front cover, "Case #LHM666", her tongue between her teeth as she wrote each letter. After a slight pause to admire her handiwork, she added underneath, "Investigated by Beatrice Espinoza."

Mom would be proud. Or, at least, she hoped she would. Trixie had lost count of the amount of times Lucifer had complained about Mom's obsession with 'proper procedure', but she was determined to do this the right way. The way her mom would. She had to, if she wanted people to listen to her.

She just needed to be careful, that's all.

Which meant, at least for now, keeping her investigation a secret. Casting a keen eye around her room, she identified her usual hiding places. Under the bed for cake, inside one of her old stuffed toys for knives... it didn't take long for her to discount both. She didn't have a toy big enough for this, and under the bed was far too obvious, especially for anything that needed to be hidden long term. For cake, it was perfect; cake never lasted for more than a day or so anyway. Especially if Maze got wind of it.

But this… this was important. Lucifer—the fake Lucifer, that is—hadn't been in her room since he got back, but that didn't mean he wouldn't if he got suspicious about what she was up to. She looked around, assessing the possibilities one more time, then made up her mind. Over there, behind the drawers in her dresser. It was perfect. A hiding place that took a bit of effort to access, but when it came to keeping something like this secret, that was actually better. It was a bit like hide and seek really. People expected you to choose somewhere easy, somewhere you could get to quickly. But the harder the spot was to find, the more likely it was that the searcher would give up.

Trixie never gave up though. It was how she found her Christmas presents without fail every single year. Learn how to seek, and you learned how to hide. It was as simple as that.

Knowing there wasn't long until dinnertime, she quickly emptied out the contents of her top drawer on her bed, then jiggled the drawer itself until she could pull it free. Picking up her new treasure, she ran her fingers over the label, smiling as she thought about how the '666' would have made Lucifer laugh. As would the whole case file name, in fact.

She could still remember perfectly the evening she spent pestering him about his middle initial, as well as the sparkle in his eyes as he teased her mercilessly about it. After running through nearly the entire alphabet, he ended up insisting that it was 'H', and then promptly refused to say anything more about it after that. Of course, she knew it wasn't really. The way his lip curled up at one side gave away the fact that it was a joke; it just happened to be a joke she didn't get. And no amount of whining could get him to explain it.

"H probably stands for something boring then," was her eventual conclusion, knowing Lucifer's aversion to all things he didn't think were 'cool'. Like being a shoe, for instance. A shoe that had vanished from their monopoly set, never to be seen again, despite Mom searching high and low for it. They both knew who had taken it of course, and Trixie was fairly sure he knew that they knew. Yet it remained an unspoken secret between them all.

His response was to fire back, "Not as boring as Jane," knowing full well she had the same middle name as Mom did. It wasn't boring though, and she informed him as such. Her abuela had told her years ago that Jane meant 'gift from God'—so not quite what Mom said the other day, but similar. And even though Trixie wasn't sure she liked God all that much, considering how mean he was to her friend, being a gift was kind of neat. Getting presents was always awesome.

As soon as she said it though, she wished she hadn't. Lucifer's response was to recoil as though she had struck him, before shaking his head and muttering, "Of course it does. Subtly never was Dad's strong point," with a wry chuckle. He looked so sad… sadder than she'd ever seen him. She should have known better, really, than to mention God. But she never did get a chance to say sorry. Barely a second passed by before he changed the subject, and after that, Lucifer H. Morningstar was never mentioned again.

Her mom's voice rang out from the kitchen. "Trixie! Dinner's ready!"

"Coming, Mom!" she called back, scooping up the scrapbook from the bed and slipping it back behind the other drawers. It would mean removing the bottom drawer every time she wanted to get to it, but for now, it was the safest place she could think of.

"Trixie!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled, scrambling to replace the top drawer and throwing her clothes haphazardly back inside. She could straighten them up later. "Later," she promised herself as she closed the drawer, knowing that soon she would be filling that case file up to the brim.

Whoever this man was, she wasn't going to let him get away with this.

Nobody was hurting her mom again.

Not on her watch.

…

By the end of the next day, her case file had already gained multiple entries. There was so much wrong with the way this stranger pretended to be Lucifer, and it was all those things she had noticed that littered each page, surrounding what little physical proof she was able to gather. Unfortunately, most of the things Mom would look for to solve a crime were impossible to find. Lucifer had no fingerprints on record—Auntie Ella had checked for her when Trixie gave the impression she had a school project to do on the subject—and no DNA either. As far as she could see, there were no physical differences, which made sense if something had managed to take over Lucifer's body somehow. Even his signature was the same though; she'd checked the card the day a bunch of snapdragons arrived at the door for her mom.

What she heard and saw with her own eyes made up the majority of what she had gathered. But… that counted as witness testimony, didn't it? It wasn't as though she was going to come across a handwritten diary confessing his secret identity.

Although she might have to sneak into the penthouse when he wasn't there, just to check.

His hugs, his insistence on following the rules, even his strange comments about Hades, they all went into the file. She underlined the fact he kept calling her Trixie three times, just to be certain Mom understood how important that was. Next to the photo her mom had taken of the two of them with their faces painted, she stuck a print out of the definition of a snapdragon flower. And then, she realised it could be used as another piece of evidence as well.

Mom might not have thought Lucifer's sudden skill as an artist strange at the time, but Trixie knew better. The drawing he did, he had managed to destroy, but the face painting was almost as good. Even better, it was a proof Mom had seen with her own eyes, even if she didn't realise it yet. Thankfully, she also managed to find one of the actual Lucifer's drawings in the middle of a bunch of old paintings under her bed. This, she stuck in next to the photograph as a comparison, along with her now typical annotation.

'Evidence No.15: Lucifer can't paint'.

…

It was Dad that gave her the next clue. To her surprise, when he dropped her off at home after gymnastics, Mom and Luci-phony were already there. The atmosphere became tense the second Dad entered the room, his dislike of Mom's partner as clear as ever, and, for the first time, she saw that even with the 'new' Lucifer, the feeling was mutual.

While Trixie showed her parents what she learned in class that day, the would-be Devil didn't even watch, far more interested in whatever game he was playing on his phone. By this point, she didn't really care, but her Dad did. When he brought the subject up though, and things started to get heated, Mom shooed her away into her room, just like she used to when she was little and it was her and Dad arguing.

She hadn't been little for a long time though, and she had no need to hide under her bed anymore, her fingers jammed in her ears in the vain hope it would block out the shouting from outside. Now, when she heard the patio doors open and close as Mom dragged Dad outside, she merely snuck out of her window, creeping around to the side gate where she could hear what they were saying.

"How can you just stand by and let this happen, Chlo? He acts like she isn't even in the room!"

"He's trying, Dan. He's been babysitting, spending time with us…"

"You left him alone with our daughter?"

"Yes. Yes I did. Lucifer would never hurt her, not in a million years. And sometimes, believe it or not, I have no other choice."

"Like you had no choice with Marcus, the murderer you let look after her too?"

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, and then, finally, Dad said, "Chlo, I—"

But Mom didn't let him finish. "You need to leave. Right now."

"Fine. But you're letting him take you for a fool, Chloe. Just like you did before."

Despite what she had previously thought, it still hurt to hear her parents fight. It hurt a lot, actually. She took a hesitant step backwards, wondering whether to retreat to her room and save herself the heartache. But then, the patio door opened again, and the sound of a crisp British accent joined in.

"Are you two quite finished? I believe your ex-wife and I have better things to do, and I'd imagine your daughter is as tired of listening to this as I am."

Crap. How the hell did he know she was there? Quickly spinning on her heels, she took for her bedroom window, cursing the sound of the gravel crunching underneath her feet. She was so busted, she knew that, but it didn't stop her from trying to get away with it anyway.

After practically throwing herself through her open window, she landed on the floor with a thump, before rolling to her feet, grabbing her backpack, and collapsing onto the bed. By the time Mom was at the door, she was lying on her stomach, a school textbook in front of her as she put on her most innocent expression. "Hi Mom!" she said with a smile, hoping she didn't sound as breathless as she felt.

Mom fixed her with a look Trixie knew she normally saved for interviewing suspects at the station. "How's the homework going?" she asked pointedly, nodding towards the book Trixie held in her hands.

"Great!" Trixie replied brightly. "I'll be done before dinner. Are we having pizza tonight?"

"I'll ask Lucifer," Mom replied, her eyes narrowing. "He mentioned something about cooking." She wandered further into the room, casting a suspicious glance over the open window before bending down to pick up a few things that had fallen off the sill, casualties of her dive bomb back into the room. "Your dad's leaving, by the way."

Trixie nodded, scrambling off the bed so she could go and say goodbye. Before she could leave the room though, her mom spoke again. "Oh, and Monkey? People who eavesdrop never hear anything good, you know."

Damn. This was the problem with having a detective for a mom; it was really hard to get anything past her. It was incredibly unfair really, none of her other friends had to deal with having lie detectors for parents. She paused briefly in the doorway, before turning back again. "Sorry, Mom," she said with a defeated sigh.

"That's okay," Mom said, a small smile gracing her lips. "Just... try to remember, sometimes we do these things to protect you."

She shook her head with gusto. "I don't need protecting anymore."

Not when I'm the one protecting you, she thought.

Mom chuckled, standing up from where she was crouched on the floor and moving closer, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. "I know, you're all grown up now. But you'll always be a baby to me."

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Moooom," she said exaggeratedly, but they both knew she didn't really mean it. With a gentle push, Mom encouraged her out of the room.

"Go say bye to your dad," she instructed, "and I'll call the pizza place. Lucifer can just cook another night."

Secretly, she was actually pretty pleased about that, and she suspected Mom was too. He'd only made dinner a couple of times for them after his 'return', and on both occasions, it was the very definition of flavourless, and nothing compared to the kind of meals Lucifer used to make. Mom said he was just out of practice. Trixie thought it was yet more evidence.

Dad was hovering by the front door, still glowering at the other man in the room. Trixie dashed over to give him a hug, both as a farewell, and for making her feel like there was someone else on her side, even if he didn't really know there was a side to be on. She wished she could tell him what was going on. But with Dad still out of the loop when it came to Lucifer, she didn't see how she could. Besides, Dad not knowing was a good thing. She could only imagine how badly that revelation would go.

"I'll see you on Friday, Trix," Dad said. "Be good for your mom, okay? No more spying."

She sighed inwardly. When it came to the parental career department, she'd definitely been cursed.

"Are you not taking it with you?"

The sound of what she still thought of as Lucifer's voice was closer than she expected it to be, and when she turned around, his copycat stood behind her.

"Did—Did you just call my daughter an 'it'?" Dad growled, sounding as angry as she'd ever heard him.

He received little more than a shrug in reply. "Fine, if you insist. Are you not taking her with you? I'm sure her mother would appreciate being relieved of the burden for a while. I know I would."

"You're unbelievable," Dad muttered through gritted teeth. His fists clenched by his sides. "Chloe has a kid, our kid, and if you want to be with her, you need to accept that. You can't just ship her off somewhere else when you've had enough."

"Why not?" the taller man said, already looking bored with the conversation. He tugged on his collar before straightening his jacket. It was something he did often now, as though he found wearing a shirt uncomfortable. "Isn't that exactly what you do?"

Dad stepped forward, his fist rising, but then his eyes flickered down in her direction and he stopped. With a slow exhale, he backed away again, his hand reaching for the door handle. "Vete al infierno," he said bitterly, and Trixie sucked in a breath. He so rarely spoke Spanish, and when he did, it was usually to swear. Not that she was supposed to know that, but Lucifer was always happy to give her some extra Spanish lessons when she asked. Especially those outside of anything she would ever learn in a classroom.

Which is probably why, despite what she knew, she was so shocked when he didn't reply. Normally, she would have expected to hear something along the lines of, "No thank you, I just got back," or "I already did," but instead, he just stared blankly, before a smirk spread over his face. "I thought so," he said, pivoting on his heel and walking over to join Mom, who was still on the phone in the kitchen.

Dad watched him leave, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then he huffed, shaking his head in disgust, before offering her an apologetic smile. "Friday then," he said sadly. "And if you need me, you call me, okay?"

"I will, Dad, I promise," she said, giving him one last hug before he left.

Once he was gone, she watched the two adults in the kitchen for a few minutes, Mom gesturing at what looked like a fast food leaflet while the man next to her pulled a face. The man posing as someone she knew spoke Spanish, just like he did every language. The Lucifer of old would never have just let Dad's insult slide.

But this one did. Because this one, hadn't understood it.

Still, the voice in her brain that demanded her investigation be thorough in every way, argued it wasn't enough. Thankfully though, she had the perfect solution.

Mom smiled at her as she approached the kitchen, ruffling her hair as she brushed past on her way to the bathroom. "Pizza won't be long," she said. "Think you can get your homework done, so we can watch a movie afterwards?"

Trixie nodded, before looking at Lucifer and actually managing to catch his eye for a change. Pitching her voice as low as she could manage, and letting the syllables scratch against the back of her throat, she ground out, "Mors van tyd, is ek reg?"

The supposed King of Hell raised an eyebrow, and called out after Mom, "Were you aware your child is speaking tongues?" When Mom didn't answer—Trixie doubted she'd even heard him, not with the water running—he pulled out his phone yet again, muttering to himself, "Just thought you should know..."

But Trixie didn't care that he was ignoring her, not this time. When she marched back into her bedroom, it was with a triumphant smile. She couldn't pull out her case file, not with him still in the apartment, but she already knew what she would be adding to it later.

'Evidence No.33: The Devil doesn't speak Lilim.'

…

When the time came to go to Dad's for the weekend, she bailed, claiming a stomach ache. She felt bad about it, of course. It was obvious during his last visit that Dad wanted her there, but she couldn't leave Mom alone, not now. As soon as she heard that Mom was going to be spending the weekend at the penthouse, she knew she had to find a way to stop it happening. Strangely though, after Mom made the call to cancel, she seemed almost… relieved.

For her part, it would mean having to keep up the pretense, Trixie was actually looking forward to spending some time just the two of them. It was now a little over two weeks since this imposter had invaded their lives, and he was always around. She missed how it was before. She missed how it could have been if the actual Lucifer were here.

But it wasn't to be. Less than thirty minutes after her phone call ended, Mom opened the door to a disappointingly familiar visitor, carrying what was also a disappointingly familiar cake box.

"Lucifer!" Mom said, automatically reaching out to take the box from him. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't stay long," he said stiffly, "as you are aware, we did have plans. My presence is expected at the club."

Mom's eyes dropped guiltily to the floor for a second, meaning she didn't see when he glared in Trixie's direction. "But I believe sweet things are considered to be a cure for human illnesses?" he continued, nodding at the item in Mom's hand.

She brightened considerably at that, taking the box to the counter and opening it. "Lemon bars and chocolate cake!" she exclaimed, smiling widely up at him. "You remembered."

He flinched when she wrapped her arms around him, but Mom didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she was just used to it. After a moment, he squirmed out of her grasp. "Yes, well, Ella was very informative when it came to your likes and dislikes," he said, missing it when Mom's happy expression dipped slightly. "And my brother appeared to think I shouldn't abandon you tonight."

From her place on the sofa, she could see when Mom closed her eyes, just for a second or two, before she took a deep breath and plastered on a smile again. Placing a hand on his wrist, she said, "Well, you asked, and you came, that's what's important. You care, Lucifer. It's… it's one of the things I love about you."

Trixie held her breath, waiting to see how he would answer. This was the first time she had heard Mom say something like this, to his face anyway.

But he barely acknowledged it at all, instead rounding the breakfast bar to grab a knife from one of the drawers. "Well, I suppose someone had to be able to find something to love about me," he said. "Father always did." Turning the open box around to face him, a grin spread across his face, and he drove the knife into the cake with glee. "Until he didn't."

"Okaaaay," Mom said, her eyes like saucers as she watched him. Trixie wondered if she found that whole scene as disturbing as she did. Edging away from him, she turned towards the living room, smiling sympathetically when she saw Trixie still bundled up in blankets on the sofa. Trixie felt a flush of shame at that; she hated lying to her Mom, especially about stuff like this, but she consoled herself with the fact that, this time, it was important.

"Feeling up to some cake, Monkey?"

Trixie shook her head. Truth be told, she wouldn't have had any even if she wasn't claiming to be ill. Lucifer hated that bakery. Together, they had worked their way through most of the patisseries in the city, searching for the best chocolate cake Los Angeles had to offer. He spent hours educating her on what counted as 'good' chocolate, complete with the necessary taste tests, of course. That particular patissier had been struck off Lucifer's list of worthy vendors the moment their ganache touched his lips, meaning Trixie refused to subject herself to it either.

Even if part of her was still tempted.

It wasn't long after the cake was finished that it was just the two of them again. Mom just shook her head when he asked if she was sure she couldn't come, cutting him off with a kiss that Trixie quickly averted her eyes from when he said, "But isn't it time to—"

"Soon," Mom replied after the kiss was over. "I'll see you soon, okay?" She sounded strangely panicked, almost as if she couldn't wait to get him out the door.

Seconds later, and he was gone. Mom was quiet when she returned, and for a while they watched The Parent Trap in silence, until finally, Trixie felt like she had to say something.

"Mom?"

She lifted her head from where she was cuddled into her mom's side, shifting until she sat upright. Mom bent forward to pick up the remote from the coffee table, pausing the movie.

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?" Mom said, placing a flat palm on Trixie's forehead. Trixie nodded.

"I'm alright." Mom's hand fell from her head, and she grabbed it on the way down, squeezing tightly. "I'm sorry for ruining your weekend though."

Mom brought her other hand over to cover Trixie's, giving her a quick squeeze right back. "Don't you worry about that, Monkey, you aren't ruining anything."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Trixie pushed forward. "But you and Lucifer were going to have a sleepover, weren't you?"

"Well, yes…" Mom said, shifting awkwardly on the sofa cushion. "But, um, I don't think we're ready... for that, quite yet. To sleepover, I mean. I haven't, er... bought a spare toothbrush to take with me."

Trixie nodded, feeling relieved that Mom wasn't upset with her for ruining her plans. But what about who she had been planning to spend that time with?

"Won't Lucifer miss you though? Were you going to go to the club tonight?"

She heard her mom give a small sigh. "I'm fairly certain he'll be fine without me," she said quietly, before appearing to catch herself. She leaned forward then, whispering conspiratory in Trixie's ear. "Besides, I'm kind of pleased I don't have to dress up, you know?"

Trixie giggled. She did know. Grandma still tried to dress her up like a doll every time she visited, and she hated it. "But won't he want to sing a song for you?"

Mom frowned, her eyes falling to the ground and sadness drifting over her face. She shook her head. "Lucifer didn't have the piano reinstalled after he came back, sweetheart. He doesn't perform anymore."

It was Trixie's turn to frown then. "But you don't need a piano to sing…?"

"You're right," Mom said, turning to face the television again and lifting an arm as Trixie could squeeze back into the space. "You don't."

Silence fell again as Mom hit play, but this time Trixie held her just that little bit tighter. And later, when everywhere was dark and Mom had gone to bed, she crept back out into the living room, removing a particular frame from the mantle as quietly as she could.

When she got back to her room, she carefully started to remove the photo with one hand, her phone in the other as she dialled Maze's number. It only took a couple of seconds before her voicemail kicked in for the thousandth time. She jabbed at the screen with a frustrated groan, closing the call. Of all the times for Maze to go off grid, it had to be now, didn't it? Now, when she needed her help more than ever. All she could do was keep trying, and hope that she picked up soon. In the meantime, she fired off another text, telling her to call her.

Until then though, she would just have to carry on as she was. At least that way she was doing something. She pulled out her case file, the picture of Mom and Lucifer in LUX she'd stolen clutched in one hand. It was with a heavy heart that she secured it to the page, this single piece of evidence affecting her more than the rest, for some reason. Maybe because it seemed to upset Mom so much as well. Either way, when she slid the book back into its place, there was a new, saddened observation decorating the page.

'Evidence No.45: Lucifer doesn't sing anymore.'

…

The next entry in her book was waiting for her when she opened the front door Monday morning. 'Lucifer' stood in the doorway, the sunlight streaming in from behind him, but in that instant, she didn't know which was more blinding; that, or the suit he was wearing. He was dressed in what she could only describe as a shade of gone-off mustard. Trixie was so taken aback that it wasn't until he coughed pointedly, that she realised she hadn't actually let him in yet. Standing aside, she watched as he waltzed into the apartment, placing the bag of breakfast he'd brought with him down on the kitchen counter.

Mom, as was usual in a morning, was rushing around trying to get everything ready in time before they had to leave for school. Even she skidded to a halt when she spotted their early morning visitor though, staring at him in a way that was completely different to how she normally did. "Oh," she said, sounding surprised, "I didn't realise you still had… that." She gestured at his jacket, her face neutral apart from the slight widening of her eyes.

"This?" Lucifer replied, looking down at himself with a proud smile. "Yes, I discovered it stashed in the back of my closet. Father knows why I put it there. Rather marvellous, isn't it?"

"Hmm," Mom hummed, "It's certainly… different, to what you normally wear."

"Well, there's always room for improvement," he stated bluntly, turning around and starting to unload his supplies. "Now, do we have time for breakfast?"

...

They didn't have time for breakfast. Mom never did when they were running late. Lucifer was there so early because they were still working on that big case, which meant neither of her parents would be able to pick her up from school tonight. There were no clubs on either, and so she was faced with a choice of going back to an empty apartment, or doing what had now become a regular after-school activity, and going to see her favourite baby angel.

Not that Charlie was much of a baby anymore. He didn't have wings yet, but they were going to have so much fun playing together when he did. She wondered how old he would need to be before he was strong enough to carry her. With three angels in her life now—if the real Lucifer still counted, that is—she was determined that someone was going to take her flying.

And it certainly wasn't going to be Amenadiel. Not without Mom's permission—unlikely—and even then, she couldn't see Auntie Linda being keen on the idea.

The whole Auntie thing with Mom's friends had started just after Lucifer first went away. With Mom so sad and Maze so busy… it was the 'tribe', as they called themselves, that stepped in to help when they could. Whether that was Auntie Ella with a science project, or Auntie Linda turning up at the door with takeout. In that time, they had become family, and so Trixie decided to refer to them as such.

Which left her here, watching Charlie play with his toys in the living room, while his parents prepared dinner in the kitchen. It was the ideal time to follow up on her lead from this morning, and check if the conclusions she had made were correct. Of course, it wasn't like she thought she was wrong, she had eyes, after all, but a second opinion couldn't hurt.

After hunting through the pencil case in her bag for a minute or two, she finally found the colours she needed, and made a start. Diligently, she copied the photograph she'd managed to snap of that awful suit, including the purple vest and tartan pocket square it had been paired with. When she was finally satisfied she had a good enough likeness, she slipped the phone back into her rucksack, before wandering over to find Uncle Amenadiel in the kitchen.

He looked up as she drew near, stopping what he was doing and smiling. "Everything okay, Trixie?" he said, his eyes darting towards Charlie for a moment, who was still happily playing on the rug where she left him.

"What do you think of this?" she asked, holding the drawing up. When he frowned slightly, she added, "We're doing a class on clothes at school. I wanted to know if you thought this suit went together? Do you think Lucifer would like it?"

Her question seemed to please him immensely. His chest puffed out as he straightened fully, and Trixie saw Auntie Linda roll her eyes a little from behind him. "Go on," Auntie Linda said, gently nudging him with her elbow. "Flex those dad muscles of yours, I know you want to." She grinned at Trixie before turning back to the stove, whispering dramatically, "He likes to practice."

The angel pointedly ignored her, taking the drawing from Trixie and studying it intently. "Well, Trixie," he said. "I think you chose the perfect set of colours. I'm sure this is a suit Lucifer would be proud to wear."

No, he wouldn't, Trixie thought to herself, but he did.

"What about you?" she asked Auntie Linda, who looked back over her shoulder.

Amenadiel showed her the drawing. "Well," she said kindly, "They're not the colours I would have chosen, but if you like them, that's all the matters."

"Thanks," Trixie replied brightly, holding out her hand for the paper to be returned. "That really helps!" Amenadiel carefully handed back the artwork, holding it gently, as though it were something precious.

As she headed back to the living room, she heard Auntie Linda say quietly, "You don't have to lie, you know. Kids her age can tell if you are."

There was silence for a moment, and then the angel replied, sounding very confused.

"I wasn't lying..."

…

As soon as she was home again, Trixie printed the photo of Lucifer's suit from her phone, attaching it to her drawing from earlier and sticking it into her scrapbook. She smiled as she looked at it, pleased that Amenadiel was able to confirm her suspicions. At the side of the page, she labelled her eye witness testimony accordingly, as usual.

'Evidence No.71: Terrible fashion sense'.

…

Just one week after the day she first started, Trixie was sat up in bed, a small torch in her hand as she flicked through the evidence she had collected so far. The book was now twice its original size. It was so full, in fact, that it was nearly time to start a new one. She almost couldn't believe how quickly it had become fit to bursting; so much so that she couldn't believe she had ever mistaken this man for Lucifer. That anyone would.

He seemed to have everyone fooled though, even Auntie Linda, who was watching her tonight. Although, truth be told, that could be a lot to do with the fact that he hadn't returned to therapy. Auntie Linda didn't seem surprised by that; when Trixie had asked, she said Lucifer had 'fired' her before he left.

It didn't surprise Trixie either, but for a completely different reason.

If she was trying to pretend to be someone else, she wouldn't want somebody that knew that person well digging around in her head either.

When she heard the sound of the front door opening, she smiled. Mom was home early, which meant she'd get to see her tonight. Hopefully, that meant the case that had kept her away a lot lately, which in turn had kept her with him, was over. She slipped out from her bed, hoping to say goodbye to Auntie Linda before she went, but at the sound of voices outside, she halted. She'd been wrong; it wasn't Mom coming inside, it was Auntie Linda going out.

Silently, she knelt down underneath her window, edging it open just a little further, enough as she could listen in.

"Thanks for tonight, Linda," she heard Mom say. "This case has been a hard one for all of us."

"No problem at all. She's a delight, truly. Besides, it's good practice for when Charlie gets older."

Mom chuckled slightly, sounding tired. "You're right there. I'll warn you now, it happens before you know it. I swear, it feels like only yesterday I was holding her in my arms and now… just look at her."

"You should be proud. I can only hope Charlie turns out the same way."

"I'm sure he will. You and Amenadiel are great parents. And… maybe a little more than just co-parents these days?" Mom said teasingly.

This time, it was Auntie Linda who laughed. "No, no, that's done with now. Amenadiel is a wonderful man—a wonderful angel—in so many ways, but the world he lives in is so different from ours… it's difficult enough navigating raising a baby with a celestial, never mind actually being in a relation—"

The sound of a sob broke through what Auntie Linda was saying, and to Trixie's horror, she realised her mom was crying.

"Oh, Chloe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, no," her mom choked out, her voice trembling. "It's fine, it's just—"

She dissolved into tears again, and it took everything Trixie had not to run out there.

Eventually though, the weeping finally stopped, leaving her sniffing softly. "Everything is just so… so different. And I know, I know he's been through a lot, and there's so much he hasn't told me… but honestly, Linda, sometimes it's like he's not even him anymore."

Silence fell, and for a minute, all she could hear was the sound of Mom's ragged breathing. Hope fluttered in her chest, the hope that Mom might finally be realising the same thing she had.

"And I'm trying," Mom continued. "I'm trying so hard to be there for him, but…"

"But what?" Auntie Linda asked gently.

"Sometimes I think he doesn't feel the same way about me anymore."

"Oh, Chloe."

Trixie stood then, craning her neck to see if she could actually spot where Mom and Auntie Linda were standing. The angle was all wrong though, and she couldn't see a thing. But she could hear her Mom crying again, and it made her hate the man doing this to her more than ever.

"He doesn't even want to… you know... have a sleepover," Mom said, putting a strange emphasis on the word. "Well, he says he does, just like he says he loves me—said he loves me, that is. He's only done it once, since he got back. But it doesn't feel like he wants to. It's like… like he thinks he has to. And that's not Lucifer, is it? That's not Lucifer at all!"

"Things might be different with you, Chloe."

"That different though? And what's worse, I'm not even sure I want to. We had plans last weekend for me to stay at the penthouse, but Trixie was sick, so I couldn't go. And I was relieved. What does that say about me, Linda? About us?"

"It says you're a woman who knows taking things slowly is important right now."

Mom sighed. "I guess that's true. Rushing into things isn't a mistake I want to make again. I just… I thought now he's home, that everything would be okay. That we'd finally get our happy ending."

"Real life rarely works out like that, unfortunately. All we can do is make the best of it. And while neither of us can even imagine what Lucifer went through down there, there are certain things about him that will never change. Most importantly—"

"Lucifer doesn't lie."

"Exactly. So if he tells you he loves you, if he says he wants to move forward with you, try to take him at his word. I know it's hard; dealing with a significant change in personality is difficult for anybody. You just need to take things one day at a time. And if one of you isn't ready to take that next step, well, you've both waited this long, I'm sure a few more weeks won't hurt."

Mom snorted, in that way she so often did when she laughed without meaning to. When her laughter died, she said quietly, "You're right, Linda. I doubted him once before, and look where that got me. I just need to trust him, and help him however I can."

"Have you tried encouraging him to come back to therapy again?"

"He won't. He says he doesn't need it. And he's not the only one I'm worried about. Trixie… I'm not sure she understands why he's being so distant."

"I can talk to her, if you like? Child psychology isn't my area, but…"

"It's okay, I got it. Like you said, we just need to give it some time. Things will get better. They have to."

"Well, you know I'm here if you need me. The same goes for Amenadiel."

"Thanks, Linda. And thanks again for tonight, for Trixie… and for the talk. I really appreciate it."

"What are friends for?"

The front door opened and closed again, and Trixie dashed back into bed.

Suddenly, the reason 'Lucifer' had Mom so fooled made perfect sense. She still thought he wouldn't lie to her.

But he was. He lied all the time.

Which made the answer simple, really.

She just needed to make Mom see it for herself.